


Love's Labours

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: 3rd Age - The Stewards, Canon - Engaging gap-filler, Canon - Enhances original, Canon - Fills plot hole(s), Characters - Family Dynamics, Characters - Good use of minor character(s), Characters - Well-handled emotions, General, Plot - Bittersweet, Plot - Can't stop reading, Plot - Joy, Subjects - Culture(s), Writing - Clear prose, Writing - Engaging style, Writing - Well-handled PoV(s), Writing - Well-handled dialogue, Writing - Well-handled introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2002-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-06 06:38:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4211830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gilraen and Arathorn hold a newborn Aragorn for the first time. Two vignettes. Entries for Quickies Challenge 2002. By Alawa.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cradling

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

When my son made his eagerly-awaited entrance into this life, much to my surprise he greeted it without a single cry; and when straight away he was placed to rest in my arms, still messy and bloody from his journey, he lay there silently with what, I thought, was just the slightest hint of wry satisfaction. And after all why not? His headstrong determination to thrust himself wilfully into the world a full two weeks before the date foretold had just shattered all the careful preparations for his arrival and thrown my usually well-ordered household into complete disarray. Indeed the birth had been so frighteningly swift it was as if my own mind had dissolved into a kind of chaos as my body took control with an animal's instinct. I now wonder if I might have lost myself entirely but for the solid presence of my old wet nurse Morwen. In the end, despite all her gloomy, and not to say alarming, warnings concerning the width of hips and the dangers of bearing children while yet too young, she had proved herself to be the most comforting of midwives. Still, prompted no doubt by an overwhelming relief, I was amused to find that I too enjoyed a certain smugness that her fears had proved to be unfounded.

When, after a little while, Morwen took the baby from me, declaring briskly that it was 'time for him to be dealt with', the languid feeling of ease I felt as the other women helped me bathe and dress and brush my hair was abruptly broken by my son discovering a new use for his lungs. I had watched with an odd sense of detachment, as his face grimaced in fury and he bawled his outraged protest against the indignity of the midwife's attentions. He had, however, calmed slightly by the time all was ready for the usual brief ceremony.

In all the while that I had spent weaving a blanket for him, as has always been the custom of our people, I had not imagined how right it would feel to see it wrapped around his body as Morwen, in the absence of my mother, spoke the formal words of welcome. The wool had been spun, dyed and woven by my hand alone. Into that yarn I had tried to infuse all the shades and hues of these northern lands; the mountains and the clouds, the rivers and the forests, the stones and the earth and into the warp and the weft I had breathed the love that I hold for all that still remains fresh and clean and free from the shadow of our Enemy. As I listened to the women of the household join in their song of greeting to a new life, I was overcome with a feeling of gladness that I had felt the need to pour my spirit into the making of that cloth.

At last, much to the relief of my son, everything was finished; and we were left to rest together quietly, in a peaceful stillness. He greedily and readily mastered the art of suckling and I began, with a little more hesitation, to unravel the mystery that was my newborn child. The blanket had fallen open and he lay then with his naked skin pressed close against mine. The messiness from his delivery had all been washed away and I wondered a little to see he had a full crest of soft raven hair that crowned his head, in strong contrast to skin that was unusually pale and unblemished for a newborn. As I watched he paused in his sucking and stared up at me with one slightly unfocused, but oddly familiar, grey eye - and it was then that I felt a sudden sharp, bodily pain of yearning for the presence of my husband.

Sunk into the soft mattress of our bed, I looked across to where Arathorn was accustomed to lie and felt for him a terrible regret that, for all our foresight, he had not been at home for the birth of our child, as he had so much wanted to be. I thought then of my husband; of the feel of questing, stroking hands on my skin and the urgent brush of lips and breath upon my face and breasts and hair. I recalled, with an upsurge of joy, the laughter and inventiveness of his last visit as we found ways to overcome the barrier of my impressively rounded belly. In that moment, for the first time, I vividly felt the truth behind the grateful words he had always spoken to me, that the mere memory of our life together could indeed be enough to relieve, for a while at least, soreness and stiffness and weariness of the body and the mind. I hoped then, with all my heart, for his sake even more than for my own, that this time, he would grant himself grace enough to remain with me a little while longer than usual; before honour bade him return to share the dangers and hardships of his men.

A messenger had been dispatched as soon as my labour began, but I knew it would be some hours yet before the quiet of the morning was broken by the sounds of anxious men and hard-ridden horses. Arathorn was expected to arrive from the east and I had asked for the window looking that way to be left open so I could also taste the cold, clear bite of a dawn in early spring. As I watched the first amber streaks of light touch the glittering peaks of the far distant mountains, all was peaceful and completely still.

My gaze wandered back inside to the other end of the chamber where, near to the hearth, the cradle stood ready, crisp sheet and coverlet of snowy white turned down expectantly. It was beautiful, an ancient heirloom of my husband's house, the black of ebony and silver of inlaid stars and trees worn to a lustrous sheen by generations of patiently rocking hands. Then I looked once more upon my son who had finished with his suckling and was asleep, his little body pressed down as close to my skin as it was possible to be, one tiny hand grasping instinctively, possessively at my newly engorged nipple. His hair no longer stood upright but was flattened to his head by a faint sheen of perspiration. He lay with his nose still pressed to my breast and his face turned a little to one side with an expression of utter satiated contentment, the last drop of milk dribbling unheeded from his half open lips. With a sudden onrush of sadness, I remembered that, all too soon, he would have to learn that there are times when we must rein in our desires and wait a while to taste the good things in life, should that even be our fate. Still, at that moment it was as if the two of us were suspended, floating in a warm expanse of gently surging water. Smiling, I reached out and drew the bedcover closer around our bodies and murmured softly into the sweat-moist head that already smelt to me as familiar as my own flesh, _"But not quite yet - not quite yet."_


	2. A Necessary Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gilraen and Arathorn hold a newborn Aragorn for the first time. Two vignettes. Entries for Quickies Challenge 2002. By Alawa.

Well, hardly have we met and already I am prattling like a dotard. And have I not always been one to shake my head at such foolishness as this? But now it seems only the natural thing to do. And is it not best that I should start as I mean to go on with nothing but straightforward talk between the two of us? For I would not hide from you, heir to everything I am, the less than palatable truth that a father can harbour selfish and ignoble thoughts toward his child. You see, in all my desperate ride for home, my fear was not for you, your birth so eagerly awaited by so many, but only for my wife, as the possibility I could lose her forever was too terrible to be imagined. And I confess that was not the first time I have been guilty of such unnaturalness. Sometimes in the night, when duty condemned me to loneliness in the wild, I have been plagued with jealousy that you will usurp me in my lover's embrace and be cherished at the breast that once brought comfort only to me.

But, here I am, face to face with you at last. And now I am most heartily ashamed that I could ever have been so ungenerous and cruel. Look at you - so small, barely the length of my forearm, so utterly helpless, so very tiny to carry the burden of such a wearisome destiny as we Heirs of Isildur must endure. How could I have begrudged you a single jot of love or comfort that happened in your way? Please forgive me, my son, for now I understand and indeed would shield you forever from the future, if it only lay within my power. For it is no choice of yours to be held in my arms, and solemnly named before all, the son of Arathorn. And that itself is a strange thing to do, is it not, when in all the most important things, you will always be rather the son of Gilraen? And therein lies your hope, I think, for your mother truly is the most remarkable of women, though she may yet seem to some nought but a slip of a girl.

Ah, I do so fervently hope you will escape the blight that poisoned my life for so long. Do you think I look a little stern and grim? Well I used to look a good deal worse. Worn down as I already was by the ceaseless war against the shadows, it was such a heavy thing to know, that I must take a wife, father a child, and not only a child, a son, an Heir to the Heir to Isildur's Heir, as I was then. To know that I could offer nothing to any woman who bound herself to me other than a share in my yoke. And let me tell you too, my son, there is nothing like the weight of having to perform for grinding away all ability to do so.

But then I met your mother. And the millstone was mercifully absent from my neck, for was it not well known to all that Gilraen was far too young to wed? So, all with never a thought for anything over than companionship, I walked with her and talked and relished the sharpness of her wit and was reminded there could be such a thing as mirth. And shall I tell you what were the most companionable times of all? When she would smile at my fears and laugh, "My lord, surely your Necessary Duty need not be so very onerous to you? Indeed, I can imagine there are some who might even consider it a pleasure to perform." Until, finally, it dawned on me at last, that wisdom has nought whatsoever to do with age. For the truth of what they say, that _love lurks where there is laughter_ , had stealthily worked its way into my heart. Your mother, of course, had known for a while, we were clearly meant to be man and wife. And though others may sometimes look at us a little askance, I have never regretted it for a moment and, much to my undying wonder, neither has she.

And here you are at last, the outcome of all that dutiful labour. I fear that Morwen was a little disapproving that I picked you up so readily when you fussed. I imagine she holds that it is never too soon for a babe to learn its place, and that your place is in that cradle, set by the fire, a little distant from where your mother lies peacefully asleep. And, in truth, it is indeed your place to lie in that bed, as I did before you and generations of my forebears before that. But let me assure you now, my son, that though at first it may seem cold and unwelcoming, you will become accustomed to it in time. For your mother will be there to help you. She will wrap you safely in your blanket and rock the cradle gently if all seems strangely still and if, in the night, the silence grows too great she will sing to you softly to lull you back to sleep. And if, after that, the loneliness is still too much to bear, she will not leave you to struggle on alone but will pick you up and hold you and comfort you, should all the world stand between.

It won't be too long now, I expect, till my Gilraen wakens from sleep. How will it be, do you think, when her eyes open and our glances meet at last? I think neither of us will feel the need to speak of labour or pain or loneliness, but rather I shall compliment her on a Duty adequately fulfilled but I shall not fail to speak of further Duties yet to be performed. For though now, at last, I have my Heir, these are troubled times indeed and it is only prudent to produce a Spare. And then there are always daughters to be considered too. And I will watch and wait, and enjoy that familiar glint of mischief in her eye, as she hones the retort that will have me laughing away my fears. And then, if she desires it, I will hold her closely in my arms, tenderly so as not to cause her any further pain, and lose myself in her embrace for just a little while.

Morwen looked in again a moment ago. She needs to reassure herself, I think, you are in safe hands. And, somewhat to my surprise, she seemed satisfied with what she saw. And, I too, would very much like to think you are in safe hands, though they are rough and calloused and nothing like your mother's. At least they are now clean and not grimy and stained black with the blood of orcs and other foul things I should not mention to one so very young as you. Indeed, now I am cradling you so closely, I suspect that you may be the one in need of a bit of cleansing.

So perhaps it is the time to hand you back to the midwife. For did not my father ever try to teach me, that to know how to delegate is the first skill a captain should acquire? Besides, I would not presume to trespass on Morwen's territory when it comes to matters of cleanliness. I will use the time to sit by your mother and watch the dying of the day. I had not really noticed before that the weather for your birthday has been so flawlessly fine. Look, little one, your first sunset and is it not a glorious one to behold? And look, up there, because the air is so very still and clear, we can already see the gleaming of some stars.

So I'll bid you farewell, but only for a while. For you will feel much better to be washed and comfortable when you are brought to us again. And when, at last, you get to sate the hunger that will no longer be denied, then, I fancy all three of us will taste a little more of what it means to be happy. Which is all to the good. For I would have you know right from your birth, what it has taken me far too many darkened years to learn, that not only in laughter can you find love, but as long as there is joy there is still hope.  



End file.
